A Bridge Between Us

by K. K. Allen

  “Well, then maybe you should be with Trip.” I took a step back, away from the temptress with the devil in her eyes, and turned around before I changed my mind. “Get dressed, Camila. See you at the campsite.”

  23

  Camila

  I wish I could hate him.

  His rejection was brutal, more so than the year and a half he’d stayed away. As adventurous as I liked to believe I was, handling disappointment wasn’t one of my strong suits. It ate at me, gnawing away on my fragile core like venom through an apple. I didn’t normally sulk, but after lunch, when Ryker had returned to the campsite, Josie ran to him, and I was left in her dust.

  Okay, so it didn’t happen as cruelly as it had played out on endless repeat in my mind, but she was in swoon-land, gaga over a new man. Everyone else had paired off, and I was alone.

  The sun had nearly set when I parked my butt on the edge of a rock cliff that overlooked the lower blue lake basin. How can I exist in such a beautiful world and feel the sadness that aches in my chest? It was the same sense of loneliness I’d felt over the past year and a half. It came in waves. Some moments, I missed Ridge intensely, and other times, I allowed myself to get lost in my present world, one where he didn’t physically exist. In my mind, the loss of him had consumed me, and I coped without him and our hilltop the only way I knew how.

  It had felt like a miracle when I spotted Ridge by that fire that first night in Ouray. As angry as I had been with him for leaving me, I’d thought we’d been given a second chance. Why did I ever think he might want the same?

  I remained at the cliff’s edge long after the sun fell below the horizon, with my legs hanging dangerously over the edge, until nothing was visible save for a perfect moon and a canopy of stars.

  I felt Ridge’s presence before the beam of his flashlight presented itself. Then he sat by my side.

  “I won’t tell you how dangerous it is to be out here in the dark. You already know.” He switched off his light and leaned back on his hands.

  He was barely visible by the glow of the moon, but I could see him looking at me before I turned my gaze back up to the endless night.

  “I never did see the stars last night.”

  Silence followed, but I could almost hear his unspoken apology for hurting me before his voice broke through the invisible barrier that stretched between us. “They’re far more beautiful up here than they would have been last night, anyway.”

  “I guess five hundred feet makes a big difference, huh?”

  “Proximity is important, yes. Without the distractions all around us competing for our attention, everything becomes clearer. It’s like the sky is naked out here. Exposed for only those who wander to see it in all its glory.”

  Something inside me stirred. “Is that a subtle reference to me exposing myself to you earlier?”

  He chuckled, and my heart swelled.

  “Because if so, it’s not funny.”

  He looked at me then. He was just a faint outline, thanks to nature’s light, but I could have sworn I could see him clearer in that moment. “You didn’t have to show me your body for me to see you, Camila. I see you. I’ve always seen you. You’ve got to know that’s the problem. It’s why I left. It’s why I’ve stayed away. But when Raven contacted me about the tour, I only agreed to be the guide because I saw your name on that list. I was weak. I wanted to see you again, even though I know I shouldn’t.”

  “But why?” My voice was pleading. “Our parents, my age? None of that matters. Not when we share what we do. And don’t tell me that this is all in my head, because I saw the way you looked at me back there. You want me just as much as I want you.”

  Adrenaline soared through me at my admission. My boldness had always been part of me, but I’d never begged for a man’s attention before, probably because I had never felt anything so intensely in my life.

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Camila.” His voice was husky with unmistakable desire, and my heart raced because of it. “And maybe your age is no longer a factor, but there’s a lot to say about our families.”

  “So what if our fathers hate each other. They’ll get over it. We’ve never done anything wrong.”

  “Except trespassing.”

  Fury swirled through me. “It wasn’t trespassing after you invited me onto your land to use as my passing route. I was your guest.”

  “You know what I mean. You know it’s deeper than that. What do you think would happen if we did get together? Sneak around like we did to get to the hillside? Go on dates and pray your father isn’t waiting on the front porch with his shotgun?”

  “You seem to forget I’m a risk-taker.”

  Ridge blew out a breath and laughed. “Trust me, Wild One. I will never forget just how far you’ve tested me in the past. Seems nothing has changed.”

  I couldn’t help my smile.

  “I’m not saying your feelings are wrong.” His voice was softer. “I’m saying this isn’t our time to explore those feelings.”

  Another ache penetrated my heart. “You talk as if it’s just me with these feelings.”

  “It’s not. You know that.”

  Disappointment and relief combined to create an elixir of confusing emotions. Not even wild horses could outrun the way my heart was galloping. Blood pumped through my veins so quickly that I had to take a deep breath to try to steady my nerves. “Tell me how you feel about me.”

  “You know how I feel about you.”

  “You keep telling me I know, and maybe I do, but sometimes it’s important to use your words, Ridge. Sometimes you should tell people how you feel.”

  “Words mean nothing when I can’t show you.”

  “Your words mean everything to me. And I want to hear you now. What would you do differently if our families weren’t at war? Would you want me then?”

  “Camila,” he pleaded.

  I sucked in a breath, not ready to give up. “Please, Ridge. I need to know.”

  An eternity stretched between us before Ridge finally spoke. “I care about you more than I deserve.”

  The shame in his tone was as crushing as it was liberating.

  “More than a friend,” he continued. “More than time and distance can ever erase. If anything, seeing you again was a reminder of what I left behind. But I had to leave.” A beat of silence followed. “The night that Harold threatened your life in that cornfield was—” He paused again, like he was struggling to find his words. “They found my mom, Camila. She was nothing but a pile of bones on the outskirts of the rez.”

  My hands shook as I brought them to my mouth, and my insides squeezed at the thought of all the unimaginable pain Ridge had to have been feeling when he found out.

  “Deep down, I already knew, but hope is a strange thing. It acts like a net, keeping us from our darkest thoughts. That night, I felt like I’d been cut loose and had nowhere to go but down. I’ve been digging myself out of that hole ever since.”

  I scooted toward him and placed a hand on his knee. “I’m so sorry. I wish I’d known.”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t want anyone to know, especially not you. Things were already at a breaking point that night, and I would have only taken it out on you.”

  A tear slipped from my eye, and I wiped it away before he could see it. “I would have been your punching bag, if that was what you needed. I would do anything for you, Ridge Cross.”

  He looked at me, that time with all barriers down, like he saw me and wanted me to know that he did. “I know,” he whispered. Then he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close. “I know.”

  We sat there in silence for the longest time, staring up at the sky while I soaked in what he’d just told me. Why is life so unfair? And why does it feel like Ridge got the brunt of it all? He was the best person I knew—the kindest and gentlest. Yet life continued to deal him shitty hands.

  “Don’t cry, Wild One.” He slid his arm down my back as he leaned into me until I could feel his breath in my
ear. “Don’t cry for me.”

  “I hate this. All of it. Our families, what happened to your mom. I still hate that you left, even though I understand now. And I hate that I’m so selfish that I want you to come back despite it all. I don’t want to lose you again.”

  “And I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered.

  I swiped at another tear. “You were right to keep your feelings from me. I think knowing only makes it all so much harder. What’s the point when we can’t change a damn thing? What does that leave us?”

  His lips brushed my ear. “It leaves us right now.”

  I shivered as his whispered words flooded me, filling my every exposed pore with the life I could only wish to keep.

  He moved a section of hair from my shoulders and pressed his mouth to my ear again. “We have tonight.” He gently cupped my chin as he turned me to face him. “We have the stars.”

  Our lips were closer than they’d ever been. Our forbidden confessions had brought more clarity to my heart and mind than I’d ever had before, and I thanked the stars while I cursed the land that divided us.

  “And this can be our secret.” He ran a finger across my lips as his eyes drank me in under the moonlight. I started to lean in but stopped myself. For once in my life, I wanted someone else to take the lead. And I didn’t have to wait long. He pressed his lips to mine, and our exhalations tumbled from our chests in unison. We became one—one breath, one heart, and one mind.

  There, under the starry sky, we shared our first kiss and what I feared down to the depths of my soul would be our last.

  24

  Camila, Three Months Later

  While fall in the vineyard brought a year’s worth of hard work to life, the most crucial work to prepare for a successful harvest happened during the summer months. Grapevines got rather unwieldy during our hottest season, and the only anticipation I could liken it to was waiting for paint to dry. Not knowing whether the buds would flower to give signs of life for sprouting grapes was torture beyond belief, especially for my papa.

  “Papa, you need to take it easy.” I approached him with a tray of homemade lemonade Mama had prepared and set it on the tractor he was currently hard at work fixing. The machine was an ancient one that he chose to use to cart around the grapes from deep in the field.

  He stood and wiped the sweat from his dirty brow before picking up the glass and guzzling it down to the bottom. He swallowed one last time and shook his head. “No time, Camila. Not if we want to use the sunlight to our advantage. We do that by cutting down the shade. Remember, every step of the process can affect your grape production, from how they grow, to the way they look, to the way they ferment. Pay careful attention.”

  As always, a quick visit to him in the field turned into a work-study session in which I got down and dirty with the rest of the field workers.

  “This one here,” he said, pulling out one of the longer green vines. “You want to cut that back to give these healthy vines access to sunlight.”

  After my lesson was complete and my papa felt like I’d mastered the art of pinpointing the vines with no signs of bearing fruit for the season, he sent me on my way to work my own row.

  I always got lost in the process of tending to the vines. Every year, I only grew more careful in the missions my papa afforded me and more excited for a time when I would be a master at the art of winemaking like he had become. The job wasn’t always easy—my papa would be the first to admit that—but it was in our blood. It ran through our veins and pumped us with adrenaline-induced joy that couldn’t be matched. And I was my papa’s daughter, dedicated to the mission and overcome with accomplishment at the end of a day’s work, so much so that I didn’t realize I’d made it to the very bottom of the hill until I ran out of vines to trim back.

  I slipped my hand shears into my dress pocket and smiled up at the row I’d just finished pruning, before a rustle from somewhere nearby made the hairs on my neck rise. I glanced right toward a small opening in the woods, a place I no longer dared to go or felt welcome.

  The last time I had heard noises in those woods, things had ended very badly.

  Heaviness rested on my chest. The first year and a half without Ridge hadn’t been easy, but the last three months had been worse after knowing Ridge returned my feelings and having felt it in that first kiss and the million kisses that came after it. Even if it was just one night, it was a night that spoke volumes.

  Chills still swept over my skin when I thought about that night on the mountain. We had kissed like it was our first, last, and only. We didn’t speak much in between. And instead of returning to my tent, Ridge had brought me to his, where we lay together all night. Our inexperience was revealed as we explored each other’s mouths and our hands wandered in all the safe places. Neither of us tried for more. Not that night or the next. More would have been too much and turned the night into something completely different that risked tainting a beautiful memory I would never forget. But one beautiful night didn’t erase the ache in my heart from missing him.

  The startling sound in the woods had nearly vanished from my mind when it picked up again, that time followed by what sounded like a chain clinking. Something about it was familiar, but I couldn’t place the sound until a black-and-white border collie made a dash from the woods, straight to me.

  I gasped in surprise before laughing when Bruno jumped at me playfully. Back when Ridge had lived there, we would often take Bruno with us to our hilltop. He loved the hike, always wandering a safe distance away to race through the weeds or tumble around in the dirt.

  I sank to my knees to pet my old friend before looking up toward the woods with a frown. “What are you doing over here, Bruno? You know my papa will lose his mind if he sees you, huh?” I whispered, even though my papa was nowhere near us.

  When Bruno still didn’t budge to go home, I laughed and stood. “Go on, boy. Go home.”

  Bruno just stayed there, looking up at me with his big brown eyes as his mouth hung open and his tail wagged.

  “Oh, fine.” I clapped my leg and started for the woods, knowing he would follow.

  He ran up beside me and paced me on my trek.

  It felt weird to head back in the direction of the bridge after so long. I hoped Bruno would take off as soon as he saw it. Maybe he’d followed a squirrel or a rabbit and got turned around. Who knew. I was just happy to get him off our property and keep him safe. My papa would never hurt a dog, but the last thing either of our families needed was ammo to restart a feud that lay as dormant as the grapevines during winter.

  The moment the bridge started to come into view, Bruno took off running. When I saw the reason why, I froze in my tracks and blinked harder than I’d ever blinked in my life. Standing at the center of the bridge, with a hand gripping the rail and his chocolate eyes on me, stood a man I didn’t think I would ever see again, at least not without me tracking him down, which I had most certainly thought about doing.

  Ridge was home. At least, I thought he was home. It looked like him. He was even wearing the same old white-and-red flannel he often wore after a long day on the farm.

  I blinked again, certain the image before me was a figment of my very vivid imagination. It wouldn’t have been the first time that I’d conjured up a memory of Ridge and wished that he would return to me.

  “Don’t tell me I rendered you speechless, Wild One. I would be terribly disappointed.”

  And just like that, my wishes and prayers and wildest fantasies were confirmed. My heart exploded, and a smile broke out wide on my face. I bolted from my frozen stance toward him. My cheeks hurt from smiling so hard, and my lungs already felt like they were going to combust.

  Emotion swept over me, and I could have sworn it was the force of my love for Ridge that carried me straight into his arms until I burst into a puddle of happy and relieved tears. I didn’t know why he was back or for how long he was staying. But it didn’t matter at that moment. All that mattered was that he was there,
wrapping his strong arms around me in an embrace I would never forget for as long as I lived. Even his scent wrapped around me, a rich blend that reminded me of blooming orchards and a woodsy meadow.

  “You’re here.” I whispered the words into his shirt, my eyelids shut tight in an effort to never awake from that moment. It felt like Ridge was home—not the home he’d been searching for as long as I’d known him but the home that had always been waiting for him, as long as he was ready.

  Ridge chuckled as he practically peeled me off of him so that he could get a good look at me. His eyes swept over my dress, my dirt-caked hands, and my flushed face then met mine and softened as my body melted back into him. I clung to him, desperate to keep him. Even better, he didn’t let me go.

  “I’m here.”

  I searched his eyes, swallowing over the emotion built up in my throat. “For good?”

  Doubt flickered in his gaze.

  “Ridge,” I pleaded. “Does this mean what I think it means? Are you back to stay?”

  He cupped my chin and shook his head. “The truth is I don’t know. I wanted to see you. And I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”

  My face burst into a smile. No words could have made me happier, and just the fact that Ridge was back pried open all the doorways to my heart.

  He smiled back as he took me in again. “That’s a pretty dress you’ve got on.”

  I already felt warm all over, and it wasn’t from the summer sun. Before Papa had put me to work on the field, I’d put on my Sunday best, a red sundress that fell just below my knees. I stepped back and pushed my hands into the pockets before twisting left and right. “Thank you.”

  Ridge nodded behind him. “I’ve gotta get back to work.” When I frowned, he chuckled. “The corn isn’t going to detassel itself.” Then he winked. “Meet me here at three?”